


The Broken and The Brave

by lorichelle



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 21:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorichelle/pseuds/lorichelle
Summary: Clint Barton is acquitted after killing the Hulk.No, after killing Bruce Banner.After killing his friend.And Bucky could understand Barton’s next move and as the archer left the city and drove west in his disastrous Dodge Challenger, Bucky grabbed his backpack, hopped on his bike and followed him.He wasn’t going to stop Barton, he wasn’t going to catch him and bring him back…He was simply going with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my fic for the WinterHawk Big Bang. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. And I'd like to thank my artist [mollynoble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mollynoble/pseuds/mollynoble) for the amazing and beautiful [collage](http://mollynoble.tumblr.com/post/158139561228/out-of-the-corner-of-his-eye-bucky-noticed-clints) to go with this story. You are so wonderful!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! <3

He’d heard it through the grapevine.

And what a grapevine it was; the Avengers, X-Men, Inhumans, SHIELD agents, etc. Once people other than the Avengers started showing up, Bucky kept to himself and let Steve do his thing. It was obvious that something had happened, some situation concerning Bruce Banner.

While with HYDRA, Bucky didn’t know about Banner but he knew about The Hulk – everyone did – and he was well aware of how dangerous he was. He understood and agreed with every concern that came with the risk of having an enormous green rage monster – as Stark had so affectionately described – able to emerge at any given moment without much control.

And even after he had met the doctor, not long after he’d joined the Avengers, he found that Bruce was generally a nice guy, all irony considered. But that didn’t water down the ever present threat within.

Bucky knew all about that as well, probably more than the others. All it used to take was nine little words…

And so apparently, according to Steve, they were on their way to confront the good doctor on his own private property in Utah. At his secret lab. And not just him and the Avengers but many others, including Director Hill and Stark.

Yeah, that was going to go well.

Even though he had no personal ties to Banner, the man was an Avenger and team members were to look after their own. And Bucky didn’t think marching upon the timid doctor’s front lawn was the best way to go about this situation.

He mentioned this to Steve.

Bucky considered staying behind, to not get involved but almost everyone else was going so he told Steve that he’d come but only as a bystander, a neutral party. He refused to be a part of the political stupidity.

It was a beautiful site really, quiet and open western plains with a warm breeze making the leaves flutter, the setting sun casting its golden rays over the land. It was quite scenic and from his vantage point where he perched on a tree branch, Bucky would’ve snapped a few photos… had it not been for the mob that descended upon Banner’s lab beneath his feet. For a man that was so easily triggered, this was an absolutely terrible idea. Bucky thought Steve knew better. And so when Banner came out, Bucky lifted his rifle to peer through the scope.

Right from the start this didn’t look good. It was tense and the accusations were flying between everyone and Bucky knew this was about to escalate very quickly.

Even from his perch, Bucky could see Banner struggling and though he’d only been using his rifle for the scope, he tightened his grip and shifted into a more efficient position, having no real intention to hurt anyone but if Steve or one of the others got hurt…

Being the best sniper in the Army – at least in the forties – there wasn’t much he missed. But across the field, on the other side of the confrontation below, Bucky saw something move in the trees and all of a sudden, something sliced through the air and hit Banner right in the eye, his body hovering in an almost elegant arch for a split second before falling to the ground.

Bucky didn’t have to run down and check for a pulse to know the man was dead, the ground beneath the doctor stained with blood and brain matter.

On instinct, Bucky’s eyes quickly scanned their surroundings but only a few seconds later did he see a man drop from a distant tree and immediately fall to his knees, hands outstretched in surrender. And even without his rifle scope, Bucky clearly recognized the messy, sandy blonde hair and signature purple chevron emblem on his black shirt.

Barton.

Clint Barton.

Code name Hawkeye.

Avenger.

The scene erupted into chaos.

Bucky watched as guards went for the archer, shackling his arms and hands as Hill announced to all that this was no a federal criminal investigation and declared to Barton…

“You are under arrest for the murder of Robert Bruce Banner!”

And then suddenly Steve was there, standing above Barton pleading, ordering, bitterly to his face.

“Look at me Clint – answer her! Why?!”

And then Barton looked up at Steve, his Captain, Captain Fucking America, with tears streaming down his face, his blue eyes pale with anguish.

“Because he asked me to.”

\- - -

It was the highest profile trial in the country.

A lot of people put their lives on hold in order to see the man who killed the Hulk. It was everywhere; television, newspapers, social media, folks on the street… And being a fellow Avenger, Bucky did his best to stay away from most of the attention, which wasn’t too damn hard with Steve and Stark involved.

But Bucky did keep up with Barton’s trial. How could he not? Not only was he a fellow teammate but Bucky had seen the whole thing. He spent most of his time in his apartment in Brooklyn, having been allowed to stay off-site but on-call. He practically lived on his couch for three days of the trial. Steve stopped by one the first day but he was so fired up that Bucky couldn’t handle him anymore and sent him on his way after half an hour.

Natasha came on the second day. They sat in silence for six hours.

Bucky didn’t sleep that night; the verdict would be announced in a few hours.

Murdock had really put him through the ringer and though it was intense, Barton admitted everything, gave a full confession without hesitation. But at first everyone had accused him of being a cold-blooded killer, which wasn’t the reason he did what he did.

He didn’t kill the Hulk.

He killed Banner.

Because Bruce had asked him to.

The hard part came when having to explain why.

Due to the foreseen future, Bruce experimented on himself and looked as if he might actually be losing his stability. So Bruce met with Barton and made him promise to take him out if he began to lose control. But no one saw. Barton truly was the best.

Only Hawkeye could have seen it.

There was even a small chance he had just saved everyone’s lives. What if that had been the future coming true? And though Bucky could tell there was more that Barton wasn’t saying, he was standing in the middle of his living room in front of the tv, waiting with bated breath as the jury announced the verdict.

Clint Barton was acquitted.

Bucky’s jaw dropped and he fell back onto the couch in shock. Clint fully confessed but got cleared of murder.

For killing the Hulk.

But Clint didn’t kill the Hulk.

He killed Bruce Banner.

He killed his friend.

Bucky thought about himself. Even if he was told to instead of asked to, he knew what it was like to have to kill someone he didn’t want to. But Clint had shown the ultimate loyalty of friendship. Especially since Hulk and Hawkeye were BFFs.

Bucky killed Howard and his wife, Tony’s parents. His friend.

Bucky damn near killed Steve.

And Bucky really felt that he needed to be there for Clint.

\- - -

_FOLLOW HIM_

And Bucky never gave it a second thought. Even if he and Barton weren’t close, he could see what kind of man the archer really was. He wasn’t a very hard person to read; the look in his eyes as he fell to his knees in surrender, staring up at Steve with the tears streaming forth.

Bucky saw himself.

And if he knew himself, he knew that Barton wasn’t going to be sticking around long.

Always living lightly and at the ready, Bucky simply retrieved his getaway pack and prepped his bike.

\- - -

Though he was now the most public face in the country, it didn’t take too much for Barton to slip away and get his shit together. And now, sixteen hours after his release, Bucky was waiting in the dark on his bike, motor running as he watched Barton get in his car. And right as he was about to kick off and follow, he tensed and his head turned sharply to see Natasha standing there, body half turned between him and where Barton sat in his car but her bright and dangerous eyes were on Bucky and for a moment he was almost afraid.

But she was asking him something with those green orbs and something told Bucky that his answer would need to be a promise.

Bucky knew that Natasha knew that he wasn’t going to stop Barton, not catch him and bring him back…

He was simply going with.

And from what he remembered about Natasha – she knew what it was like to be different, to be the odd one out, the outcast. They both had similar rogue personalities.

He saw the redhead’s eyes glance over to Barton who Bucky had also glanced to see was leaning his head back against the headrest. Even from here, Bucky’s sniper vision could see the emotion on the archer’s face. But then of course, a few moments later he sat up straight, resolutely and started the car.

Bucky and Natasha’s eyes met again, this time, her sea-greens glistening with unshed tears. They widened as Barton pulled away.

_WATCH OUT FOR HIM_

Bucky kicked the stand on his bike and nodded.

_I WILL_

He revved the engine and took off after Barton.

\- - -

They’d been on the road for almost eight hours.

Bucky never once stopped for risk of losing the archer, only stopping when Barton – Clint - pulled over on the side of the road to do his business and Bucky did his. It gave him a lot of time to think. He reflected on all the years he’d spent hurting people, how seeing Steve on the bridge made him question himself for the first time in seventy years, made him doubt his actions, made him fear his handlers. While on the run after D.C., he had never been so lost. Left on his own with no purpose and no resources, he dealt with things coming back to him and slowly Bucky began to understand and accept that, all those memories reminding him of who he was… but who is was now, a blank slate. But it was hard convincing Steve of this. He was helping Bucky remember how to be who he once was. But he couldn’t. And he never would. So it tore him up for essentially disappointing Steve. It was just another thing Bucky had to accept. Steve would have to learn on his own.

\- - -

Finally, at fuck o’clock in the morning, they finally reached a tiny town with a gas station and an old, small motel on the side of the highway. Bucky slowed down to allow Barton time to park and check in. Once Barton – no, Clint - disappeared into a room with his two large duffle bags (one just for his weapons, naturally), Bucky secured his bike to one of the trees in the woods next to the motel. And from there he had a good vantage point in which to keep an eye on the archer. He had no idea how long he would hole up here but for the first few hours Bucky would keep watch, just in case the man chose to do something rash.

Like drink himself to death. Because it was literally only a minute and forty seven seconds before Clint came back out and walked to the gas station next to the motel and quickly returned with two cases of cheap beer. Ah, it’s going to be one of those nights. But Bucky could sympathize.

So Bucky climbed onto the flat roof and laid down right above Clint’s room and got comfortable. As he gazed up into the clear night sky, the light of the full moon so bright it outshined the twinkling stars around it, Bucky let his thoughts wander.

He thought about Steve finding him in Bucharest, about Steve rescuing him after he crashed that helicopter, about Steve and Sam hiding him out, about telling them about Siberia… and Steve calling his friends.

About Steve calling Clint and Clint not even hesitating.

Clint, Sam, Scott and Wanda risked everything for Bucky and Steve’s mission. They protected them during the battle in Germany. And they didn’t even know him. Hell, and not only did they get captured, they got sent to a floating maximum security prison in the middle of the fucking ocean.

He owed them in ways he had no idea how to repay, other than fighting alongside them as an on-call Avenger.

It was obvious that Clint would go to all the lengths for his friends. And even though he killed Bruce, Clint had still honored his friends’ wish.

Clint was always there for them. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be there for Clint.

He spent the remaining hours of the night listening to the man below scream and cry and by the time the sun rose Bucky was wiping his own silent tears.

\- - -

Warmth on his face and the sounds of birds made Bucky jerk awake, blinking his eyes in the morning sun. He glanced at his watch and noticed it had only been a few hours since he’d heard Clint’s sobs die down and allowed himself a few hours rest.

He rolled over and glanced down to see the archer’s car still parked in the space in front of his room. Bucky grabbed the edge of the roof and did a graceful front flip onto the ground. Glancing around to make sure no one noticed, he looked at the door knob and noticed it was old and basic and obviously only took a paperclip to open it. Bucky pushed open the door, noticing that the chain lock hadn’t been done and slowly slipped inside, closing it gently behind him.

As he expected, empty beer bottles littered the flood and the dresser and even the bed, right next to a haggard looking hero sprawled across it with his head hanging off the edge. For a moment Bucky thought to check for a pulse but the way Clint’s face scrunched up in his sleep put him at ease. But that didn’t stop him from walking over and standing right above the man, looking down at him. The room reeked of beer and so did Clint, the archer’s hair tussled like it had been pulled, his shirt crusty with drying beer stains and tear streaks on his handsome face.

Then suddenly Clint’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at Bucky a few times before speaking softly.

“…Barnes?”

Bucky felt his lips curl at the edges…

And then Clint sighed so heavily it was more of a snort as he mumbled, his words slurring.

“Great, they sent the Winter Soldier after me. Well guess what, you’ll never take me alive…”

And with that, Bucky’s almost smile quickly faded, eyes narrowing in annoyance at the archer who seemed to have passed out again. Bucky decided to forgive the comment and instead gently maneuvered Clint so that he was laying the right way on the bed, resting his head gently on the pillow and taking out his aides and setting them on the nightstand. With his own sigh, Bucky watched him for a few more moments before righting the turned over furniture and going in search for a trash bag to gather the beer bottles around the room.

\- - -

Bucky was sitting at the end of the bed with the tv remote, channel surfing when he heard a groan behind him.

He stood when the bed shifted and walked around to see Clint blink his eyes open with a frown.

“My head hurts. You can kill me now.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and fought the urge to smack the wrecked and hungover man and simply pointed to the nightstand beside the bed, where a big bottle of water sat with two aspirin, a bagel and his purple hearing aids.

Clint let out a sigh of relief when he saw and reached for his aides. “Ohhh you’re an angel, Barnes. An Angel of Death maybe but still an angel – ow!”

Bucky shook his head after he smacked Clint on the arm. “I’m not actually here to take you to the underworld Barton but don’t tempt me.”

“Angel of Mercy then,” he replied as he adjusted his aids. “Ah! What the fuck is that?!” Clint cried before covering his ears, nodding to the tv, where Bucky had left it on a dramatic Spanish language soap opera.

“Aww, Telemundo, no…”

“Sorry,” Bucky said as he grabbed the remote and turned off the obnoxious show. “There was nothing else on.”

“So you chose to watch the Spanish channel?” Clint demanded as he slowly sat up and took the bottle of water and popped the aspirin.

“Hydra taught me Spanish.”

“Ugh.”

Bucky ignored Clint’s grumbling complaints as he rummaged through the archer’s bag. He tossed a pair of (hopefully) clean clothes on the bed. “Eat. Shower. Get dressed.”

“Sir, yes sir,” he heard Clint say sarcastically and Bucky didn’t have to look to catch the mock salute directed at him. But when he did turn to look, Bucky saw Clint glancing around, his tired face softening as he took in the state of the room, no doubt noticing the furniture straightened and all the trash cleaned up. Those blue eyes clouded over sadly and Bucky cleared his throat, getting up and heading for the door.

“Get cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

“Barnes…”

Bucky’s hand paused on the door knob.

“I know.”

“No you don-“

“You know I do, Clint. And it’s okay.”

When Clint said nothing else, Bucky opened the door and left.

\- - -

Bucky moved his bike from the woods and parked it next to Clint’s Dodge and grabbed his backpack and headed to the gas station.

When he returned to the room, he found the archer sitting at the end of the bed where Bucky had sat earlier, freshly dressed and showered and Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the water droplets running down the tan neck from his wet hair. But he came back to himself when he noticed Clint’s bowed head, staring down blankly at his bare feet. And Bucky’s heart ached at the sight and he felt the need to go to him and pull him into a comforting embrace but instead he set down his backpack and sat beside Clint, close enough for their hips to barely touch, trying to provide a level of comfort.

The silence they shared wasn’t awkward and Bucky had to admit he felt a little better as well.

But eventually the way Clint started fidgeting with his hands, Bucky could tell the archer was struggling in the moment, possibly trying to figure out what to say but Bucky thought that talking could wait a little while longer. So he kicked off his boots and scooted backwards to rest against the headboard, reaching for the tv remote.

Clint continued to sit there at the end of the bed, shoulders tense. So Bucky patted the space beside him loudly so as to get Clint’s attention and motioned for him to join him. It took Clint a moment to move, during which Bucky channel surfed again, keeping the volume on mute as he browsed quickly, trying to avoid the stations showing recaps of Clint’s trial, which was hard.

Finally, Clint slowly inched his way up on the bed beside him.

Bucky cleared his throat, becoming a little nervous all of a sudden. He was never any good at small talk. “There’s nothing on really.”

At that, Clint’s shoulders slumped and he scoffed bitterly. “Nothing except what a murderous hero I am.”

All the nerves that had overcome Bucky left as he sighed and rolled his eyes, again.

“Cops or the History of Human Flight?”

“…do they have Dog Cops?”

“…just Cops.”

“…who the fuck thought that a blimp was a good way to travel?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

\- - -

Bucky blinked a few times, eyes flittering open as he felt a warm breath on his neck.

Enough awareness came to him to realize that they had fallen asleep and Clint was halfway curled up against him, face buried in Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky focused on their breathing in tandem and found the closeness soothing. It had been so long since he’d shared this kind of interaction with another person and if he had once before, he no longer remembered. And the past didn’t matter anymore anyway. All that mattered was moving forward.

And enjoying the moment.

He soon drifted back to sleep slowly, carefully linking their ankles together as sleep reclaimed him.

\- - -

Bucky felt hot as he jerked awake suddenly, his breath catching as he moved to sit up, noting the lack of warmth he had felt before against him. And Bucky’s blood boiled as he saw Clint back at the end of the bed, eyes glued to the tv.

_“Just hours after being cleared of murder, Clint Barton is now missing…”_

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it hurt and he stood with a growl, unplugging the tv from the wall and crushing the remote with his metal hand.

Their eyes locked, blue meeting blue and Bucky nearly crumbled at the anguish and shame he saw and the lurch his heart gave almost made him lose his composure. But he couldn’t. He needed to be strong for his teammate.

His friend.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back.”

\- - -

Bucky rode his bike a few blocks into town, a man on a mission he was. Clint had his breakdown and had his time to sulk. Now it was time to get out of here. Time to move forward. And Bucky wasn’t one to set up shop and mope. He knew Clint had funds that he had accumulated during his tenure at SHIELD but Bucky wanted his own cash as well.

And besides, they didn’t need two vehicles.

He rode along slowly and as he passed by a mechanic shop, he saw two workers standing out front eyeing his bike with interest and he smirked to himself.

**\- - -**

When Bucky slipped quietly back into the motel room with two cups of coffee from the diner across the street from the mechanic shop, he found Clint lying on his stomach on the bed. He walked over and set the cups down on the nightstand and allowed himself another few moments to watch the archer. His brow was furrowed and his breathing was shallow which meant that he wasn’t fully asleep. But Bucky watched him anyway.

Truth be told, he obviously didn’t know Clint’s plans, if he had any. Bucky didn’t know where he was going. He completely understood the decision to hit the road, nothing wrong with the life of a vagabond. It was a chance to break away from the big problems and away from the cameras and away from the politics. It was freedom; being free to be yourself and free to discover your own path and actually live life.

Let the Avengers deal with the aliens and murderbots.

Bucky and Clint can help the people.

They are the reason they fight the good fight, yeah?

“Hey creeper, why don’t ya take a fucking picture.”

Bucky startled, focusing and realizing Clint had been looking at him for who knows how long but his teasing came softly and without bite and there was a small playful spark in his eyes as he looked up at Bucky.

Bucky shook his head and pointed. “Coffee.”

The reaction was instant.

“Ohhh you are an Angel of Mercy, yes you might be!” Clint declared with calm but refreshing enthusiasm and Bucky couldn’t stop the smile that came at the sight of the man having a brief moment and pleasure and relief.

Or maybe not.

Clint made a small disgusted sound and he closed his eyes as he swallowed. “This is awful.”

“It’s from the diner, not the gas station.”

“That’s disappointing. You usually can’t go wrong with diner coffee.”

As Clint went to set down his cup, Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills rolled up with a rubber band and dropped it on the nightstand.

Clint jumped slightly. “Shit dude!” He grinned but then his eyes narrowed and he looked up at Bucky suspiciously. “Who’d you kill?”

“Why would you assume that I would just kill for a few hundred dollars? I am capable of simply robbing a person instead of just crushing their skull.”

“Angel of Mercy indeed. So who’d you rob?” Clint asked, picking up the wad and tossing it in the air and catching it.

“More like aggressively bribed. Let’s just say that even though they got robbed, they got a bike.”

Clint turned so quickly in shock that he didn’t catch the wad of cash before it landed on his face and he cursed, rubbing his cheek before looking back at Bucky, slowly rolling onto his back and putting his arm behind his head.

It was several minutes of Clint giving Bucky a calculating gaze before he spoke.

“I know you followed me,” he said simply his words low and hard. “I thought about trying to lose you but for some reason I just didn’t. Guess after a while I forgot about you. And when I got here and you parked your bike in the woods…”

_Of course_ , Bucky thought. _Hawkeye sees everything_. But he also hadn’t been trying to fool Clint either.

“So now,” Clint continued, voice rising briefly for emphasis. “You say that you basically gave your bike away to some morons and just took their cash. Am I right so far?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said carefully, recognizing that Clint finally had him on the spot. He rubbed his fingers together where his arms were hanging awkwardly by his sides. He wanted to sit down next to Clint but the archer looked too intimidating to move over.

But Clint’s expression softened and so did his voice when he spoke again. “You took care of me…” for a moment he fell quiet, his eyes shining before he blinked the emotion away. “You’re packed. So my question to you Barnes – why are you here?”

Bucky felt the weight of those words, heard how heavy they were with Clint’s confusion and desperation. And he acted on the need to be close to Clint; he moved to sit down next to him, his movements slow and deliberate and Clint instantly let him, only scooting a few inches to their hips were flush together, the heat gathering between them felt like a safe wave. Bucky kept his hands in his lap to keep himself from reaching out to Clint again.

“I’m coming with you.”

It really was that simple, that easy. And only Bucky could notice Clint’s eyes widen only a fraction, his expression falling blank but his gaze was deep. Their eyes locked for a long time before Bucky decided that would be enough for now.

“There’s a Bill Paxton marathon on tonight.”

\- - -

Bucky got food from the diner and they settled in for the evening. Near the end of Apollo 13, they had stretched out side by side on the bed, propped by the pillows, with only the tv for light. They hadn’t spoken the whole movie and while he could practically feel Clint running through the motions in his head, Bucky was patient and left the archer to think. He had made his decision. He was just waiting for Clint to make his.

\- - -

Twister had the atmosphere lighten up a bit. Clint was slightly more relaxed but still not too talkative. They remarked about the tornadoes themselves and laughed at all the comedic moments. Bucky had to admit that it was nice, really. And by the end of the movie he swore he caught a hint of a smile on Clint’s face.

\- - -

Halfway through Tombstone and Bucky found that he wouldn’t mind doing this again.

They slowly fell into light conversation, talking about the characters and mimicking the famous lines and debating which of them could win in a quick draw. They both rested their arms behind their heads, knees bumping into each other playfully. It felt good, to be close and relaxed and carefree, if only for a day. But a deep and quiet part of Bucky kind of wanted this to last for more than just a day.

It felt good to have a friend; someone to find purpose with, to win and to lose with, to laugh and to be silent with, to fight and be foolish with. To have a partner. Steve used to be his teammate, his best guy. And though Steve was important to Bucky, Captain America was important to the nation. And Bucky was fine with that. It’s who Steve is, he was meant to be the hero, and the people needed Captain America.

Bucky just wanted a friend. And he hoped that Clint would want to be his.

At some point when they knocked knees again, they stayed that way, pressed close against each other and Bucky, in this moment, was so content that he sighed and felt good and safe enough to fall asleep. But a conversation caught his attention and he listened to Jack Johnson scoff at Doc Holliday.

_“Wyatt Earp is my friend.”_

_“Friends? I got tons of friends!”_

_“…I don’t.”_

Those words hit home, hard in his chest and Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced over at Clint who he was startled to see looking right at him, his face serious but with a hopefulness shining in his eyes that made Bucky smile brightly at him. And when he did, Clint gave him a small but genuine smile and linked their ankles together.

\- - -

Bucky shifted awake when he felt eyes on him and he looked up to see Clint standing above him, gazing down at him and in the faint light of the tv in the darkness he couldn’t quite read the archer’s expression but he held his gaze. They must have slept for a while after Tombstone; there were exercise infomercials on mute so it was well past midnight at least.

Out of the corner of his eye Bucky noticed Clint’s bags packed and ready on the table in the corner. He had on a jacket as well as his boots. They stared at one another for several minutes, Bucky looking patiently up at him, until Clint finally spoke.

“Time to hit the road.”

And Bucky flat out grinned as he stood and faced Clint evenly. “Let’s go.”

\- - -

They were quiet as Clint drove, Bucky definitely enjoying the cool, pre-dawn breeze with the windows down. It was some time before suddenly Clint let go of the gas and pulled off the highway as they came through the wide countryside, slowly driving out into a field overlooking green hills across the plains as the sky lightened behind the mountains in the distance.

Clint stopped and turned off the car, getting out and crawling on top of the hood, moving to lie on his back like he did on the bed back at the motel. Bucky got out too, hopping up and sitting beside him, the archer resting his head against Bucky’s hip.

They were quiet for a while as they watched the coming sun begin to paint the sky in pastel hues before Clint eventually spoke.

“I’m a mess you know.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.”

Clint’s breathing hitched slightly and it was a few more minutes before he spoke again and this time, his voice sounded sore fear and shame.

“I’m a monster…” he whispered.

“You’re not a monster.”

“Come on Barnes, you know what it’s like to be told you have to kill your friend!”

But that wasn’t entirely correct. Bucky had fallen into a never ending nightmare where he was redone and programmed like a machine to destroy whoever he was told to. One day it just so happened to be Steve. Complete happenstance.

And in the end, he did end up saving Steve.

Clint’s grief was blotting his thoughts so Bucky forgave him for it, of course.

But still…

“No,” he said firmly to the archer. “No I don’t.”

Barton looked up blearily but with genuine confusion and Bucky sighed.

“I don’t know what it’s like to have to sit there and listen to one of your closest friends and teammates tell you that, in the apparently inevitable event of where he is likely to truly lose his shit and kill everyone, they need you to be the one to put them down.

“I’m a man of my word and when you gave yours to Bruce, I honestly don’t know if I could do the same. Even if it were Steve.”

Clint continued to lay there, eyes bright, staring right into his own, shimmering.

But there was something else.

The biggest question of the trial was, of course, why Bruce chose Clint.

But there was another question within that question.

Why did Bruce chose _Clint?_

_Why_ did Bruce chose Clint?

Obviously it was only Hawkeye who could get the job done. But the thing was, there were two parts to the task of putting Banner down. Making the shot…

…and living with it.

So Bucky was unaware that his hand had eventually made its way to the side of Clint’s neck comfortingly, his thumb brushing his jaw. He sent the second question down to him in a whisper.

“Why?”

Clint trembled and let the tears fall from the sides of his eyes and down into his hair. “He said I was the only one who would be able to live with it.”

And just like that, Bucky felt a sort of alignment deep within him and he couldn’t help the small smile as he angled his hand up to thumb away the tears. “Then you’re definitely the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

He breathed the words and leaned down, brushing his lips against Clint’s for a few half moments before leaning back just enough to gaze into deep grey-blue hues of raw emotion, a small smile slowly lighting up his damp face. Clint tilted his chin up, as if he were going to chase after Bucky’s lips, when he suddenly stopped and zoned back into focus with a quirked eyebrow and childish smirk.

“Braver than Captain America?”

Bucky let out a heavy and annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes. “Steve’s just an idiot.”

And Clint’s grin was genuine and Bucky’s smile returned but within a second laughter was spilling from them both, echoing across the field and punching their stomachs. It was the best laugh Bucky had had in a very long time.

Their laughter died down to easy silence as Bucky stared across the field and Clint gazed up at the rising sun. Bucky’s hand had never left Clint’s neck and some time ago the archer’s strong hand came up to cover his own.

Clint’s voice came like a song on the morning breeze. And Bucky could feel Clint’s body thrum beside him with excitement that he was trying to be cool and control.

“So, you ever been to New Mexico?”

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of his career, I plugged Bill Paxton and my favorite movies of his. And it's just a bonus that Tombstone had a line that was relevant to the most important moment in this story :)
> 
> RIP BILL PAXTON! <3


End file.
